


heavy rain

by ohvictor



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4575603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s raining outside, a soft, irregular drumbeat on the roof. It has long since faded into the background of Touya’s awareness, the damp sounds faint enough that they no longer register unless he thinks about them, but judging from the stiff line of N’s back as he sits reading on the couch, he’s having trouble shutting the rain out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heavy rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unhappyrefrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain/gifts).



> this is just a teeny birthday drabble for [danch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain)!! i haven't written isshushipping before and it's been about a year since i played bw, so i'm sorry if anything is weird about it. if you want good isshuship fic tho you should check out danch's stuff because it's Excellent B) enjoy!!

It’s raining outside, a soft, irregular drumbeat on the roof. It has long since faded into the background of Touya’s awareness, the damp sounds faint enough that they no longer register unless he thinks about them, but judging from the stiff line of N’s back as he sits reading on the couch, he’s having trouble shutting the rain out.

Touya, curled up on an armchair across the room, watches N’s fingers twitch where he holds the book. His jaw is tight but his lips move slightly as he reads, sometimes opening his mouth so he can bite at his bottom lip, or swipe his tongue over it, little signs of concentration.

The book is a collection of old plays, mostly dramas, that he’d bought on a whim because he’d liked the cover. Sometimes when N reads this book, he gets melancholy, mulling over the actions of the archetypal kings, the young knights, the saviors, the outcasts. He will be stuck for half a day, held down in his own head, too burdened by the weight of his past, of the stories he is absorbing, finding trends, similarities, more debts to levy on his own heart, more fingers to point at the things he’s done in the past.

N’s forehead creases in a frown, and he mumbles something as he turns a page. Touya wonders if N knows he’s watching him, his own book now spread flat in his lap, mostly forgotten. Watching N read, the faint rain on the roof, the comfort of his position in the chair, it all leaves Touya comfortable, his thoughts flowing easily as he watches N’s progress.

Another several minutes pass. N’s frown deepens, and he chews on his lip with more vigor than before. Touya is seized with the wish that he had read these plays before N, so that N might not have to suffer their plots alone.

As silently as he can, Touya uncurls himself and gets up from his chair. N’s eyes lift immediately, and he seems to pull with difficulty from his thoughts, looking irritated at the interruption. Touya offers him a small smile, apologetic, and N lowers his eyes back to the page, his shoulders relaxing a little.

Such stiff shoulders. Touya wanders around the perimeter of the room to come and stand behind N, eyeing the tension in his posture once more. N’s head lifts again, and he half-turns and eyes Touya, stopped behind him, an arm’s length away.

Not scared, not angry, just waiting to see what Touya will do next. The trust N levels him makes Touya’s breath catch.

He reaches out and spreads a hand over N’s shoulder, his touch light at first. N inhales, surprised, and Touya feels his muscles tense and then relax, still taut under Touya’s fingertips.

Slowly, carefully, Touya works his fingers into N’s shoulders. He seeks out knots in the muscle, places where there’s no easy give when he presses, and kneads into the tensest places with his palms, then his knuckles, easing what tightness he can find. N’s breathing quickens at first, and Touya thinks maybe he’s confused, but after a few minutes he relaxes, and closes his book, placing it in his lap. He sits quietly as Touya continues to massage his shoulders, and, after nearly fifteen minutes, Touya hears him exhale without any catches or shakes, and smiles.

“Better?”

N nods, turning again to look up at Touya. The blank anticipation of earlier has gone, replaced with something soft, almost a smile. “That book is important to me, but not always nice. And the rain-- I had to shut everything out, just to concentrate. I forgot where I was, I got too absorbed in it.”

Touya knows this concentration, the way N fixates on things. Sometimes, he’s just thinking; sometimes he’ll be eating lunch and forget the fork halfway to his mouth. Sometimes, they’ll be twined together, N buried deep inside Touya, and N will get that look in his eyes, like he’s narrowed his entire world to just the space between his and Touya’s gasping chests, to the few important sensations.

“What’s the play about?”

N hums, his hand finding the edge of the book and tracing it as he starts to summarize what has happened so far. Touya’s hands continue their motions on N’s shoulders, now loose, pliant, allowing the presses and digs of his fingers, rolling back against his palms. The rain still falls on the roof, beating its endless tirade only to roll off, unable to penetrate the tiles; but out the windows, the lawn is receptive to the incoming water, its soil loose and open, grateful to absorb the refreshment it needs.

Touya thinks, it’s simply a matter of the approach.

 

 


End file.
